


World Saved. Ass Pummeled. Aye.

by onetruebrk



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sailor Moon, I don't know what the fuck I was thinking, M/M, but magical boys are cool, no regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9571379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onetruebrk/pseuds/onetruebrk
Summary: Sailor Moon with an attitude and a dick (although god knows where)Not to say that doesn't apply to the other Sailor Scouts as well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, my ao3 debut work. 
> 
> I wanted to write a lot more but my inability to look past the general shittiness of my work made it hard to get past 3.5k. 
> 
> Tbh, I only wanted to make Sailor Moon puns and look at the crap I've churned out. Welp.
> 
> Well, I'd like the thank myself and myself for reading this over and over again and still not making it any better.
> 
> Swearing and stuff and some innuendos and hilariously bad puns that probably don't even reach the lower limit of logic so. Additonally, my editing is shite so.

Taking down human targets is not Tsukishima’s favourite past time. He realises after his second or third hunt that human baddies don’t necessarily have tunnel vision for world domination the way non-human villains do; they’re far greedier and come in a set with a whole lot of fucking goddamn attitude. For fucks sake, he had literally fought alien overlords who had ploughed through cities like a child wading through stacked build-a-blocks, literally turning every living and lifeless thing into dust underfoot. However, nothing - nothing - annoyed him more than winding through tiny alleyways, leaping from roof to roof and scaling stair rails to come face to face with the smuggest grin he had ever laid his eyes on. It didn’t matter what crime they had committed; theft, murder, or vandalism - justice would always be delivered in times of injustice. Justice was Tsukishima’s role, his name, his lifeblood and no fucking arsehole would stop him from delivering it.

He’s light on his feet despite his fatigue, adrenaline replacing actual energy and pumping through his blood with the pressure of a fire hose. He had long lost concept of time; the only indicator of it being that the sun had set not too long ago but then again, what did ‘not too long ago’ entail? He had been chasing, hunting this black clad figure for - god knows how long - and his vision had been blurring at the edges, sweat trickling haphazardly down his jawline and his grip on his staff slowly loosening. At any point now, sooner rather than later, he would have hit his limit and the power of his own crystal would be wearing off. God, he wished this fucker would just give up so Tsukishima could give him to the police and call it a fucking day but fate has it in for him - he’s abso-fucking-lutely sure about it. So, its unusual - highly so - that his target just stops. They’re on a roof of a random suburban apartment complex; no more than 6 stories high but it’s position on the top of a small hill gives a spectacular view of the super moon. It hangs just above the city skyline; it’s own natural light clashing against the artificial brightness below it and as much as Tsukishima wishes to admire the surreal beauty of the astronomical phenomenon, he has matters at hand to attend to.

If looks could kill, Tsukishima wishes he could shoot lasers out of his eyes and end the douchebag already but unfortunately the power is beyond his inventory of tricks. “Sorry to cut your moon viewing short, but I’ll be capturing you now. You have the right to remain-””

“Don’t you think the super moon is just great?” He cuts in, “Symbolic for us, don’t you think?” 

Wow, how fucking r00d, Tsukishima wants to tell him off but its golden feline eyes piercing through his very being and wow, is his heart actually beating faster? Holy shit, be still my maiden heart and what the fu- “Symbolic? Enlighten me Mr Black Cat,” he rolls his eyes, “then give me your wrists so I can slap some fucking cuffs on you and get you in your bed behind bars.”

And he’s laughing, bursting with cackles really as he turns to face Tsukishima properly. His attire is hardly… hiding anything. The black suit is skin tight, muscles defined and every line accentuated especially in the light of the moon. Nothing short of attractive but Tsukishima doesn’t let that slip out of his mouth - not in a million years, “Cuffs in bed? Kinky,” He wipes a tear from underneath his waterline, in the place where his fingertips are, silver knives fashioned like claws gleam at the right angle, “as for the symbolism; I’m a wanted man that hunts at night albeit in a sexy cat suit and-” His hands make a wholesome gesture, encapsulating the whole of Tsukishima’s figure.

The veins in his forehead seem to throb with irritation, “and? What about me, kitty-cat, that makes this night of any symbolic importance to me?” In a sour mood, Tsukishima allows his hands to rest on his hips no matter how ridiculous he knows he looks.

But the sly man laughs again, his chest heaving with lost breath and hands clenching at his sore sides, “You’re - pft - you’re a-a Sailor Scout, love.” Tsukishima can’t believe his ears; his jaw drops autonomously, “You’re Sailor Moon - aha-ha-haaaa-hooo - how is this view anything but symbolic for you?”

Tsukishima doesn’t hear wrong, he can’t possibly; he curses his refined hearing, “D-Did you just fucking call me Sailor Moon?” His hands automatically fly up; the mere thought is unfathomable, the epitome of ridiculousness, “I-” He scoffs, a frustrated and shaky hand raking through his loose hairs, “I’m a knight of justice! I fight criminals and aliens - I’m a fucking vigilante of justice and you dare compare me to a Sailor Senshi?!” He’s huffing, face reddening with embarrassment, “You’ve belittled me from a valiant warrior to a mere m-ma-ma-” chokes, “a mere magical girl?!” His patience is breached as he shifts his grip on his staff and lunges at his taunter. 

Despite his clear speed advantage, his weapon collides not with flesh, but with metal. In his blind rage, Tsukishima had forgotten the extent of his target’s strength. Black Cat: just another every day wannabe villain; robbing houses, sabotaging political events, vandalising streets and being a general nuisance to the public and yet, why had he not been caught? Low priority, yes but also because of this - well-equipped with fast reflexes, all-seeing eyes, taloned gloves and titanium tonfas, of course Black Cat would be a pain to deal with.

He pushes harder, his opponent taking a step back to accommodate the power exchange, “Okay love,” he drawls and his eyes flicker to Tsukishima’s hips, “explain to me the mini skirt and thigh boots - oh, and don’t get me wrong,” Tsukishima growls at the glint of mischief in his feline eyes, “you look particularly hot in them - you’re hitting all my buttons, Tsuki.” 

Tsukishima lets the roar tear through his throat as he takes half a step back to strike him with as much strength as he can muster but his staff swings through air. However, he’s quick to recover having anticipated Black Cat’s movements; he swings upwards to meet his tormenter, “Firstly,” his swing resounds in the air - another miss, “its not a mini skirt!” Black Cat makes a spectacular show as he uses Tsukishima’s staff as a springboard, leaping off of it in a back-flip and landing elegantly a few paces to his left. Tsukishima is quick to turn to meet him again, “Its a trim on the band of my shorts!” He attempts a feint to Black Cat’s right but he isn’t easy to trick, opting to move into Tsukishima’s blind spot, “Secondly,” He lets the word travel past gritted teeth, “No one - not a single fucking soul - is ever allowed to call me by that name!”

He watches it in slow motion; the shadow flying over him, the tips of his fingers lifting Tsukishima’s chin to meet him and the chaste touch of lips to his forehead - Tsukishima watches it all in a trance, “I’ve got to go, love. Maybe another time?” He watches the smirk appear on his face, then the very same features disappearing in a flash behind him.

Frozen in the moment, Tsukishima simply stays like that; back bent backwards, legs straining to hold his body in the oddest of positions, and neck craning to watch the stars twinkle without a care for the world. He blinks once, then twice then he turns hastily to lean over the edge of the wall. He scans left and right; head dizzy from the whiplash of turning it so quickly but he’s gone, just like smoke. 

Almost as if on cue, as Tsukishima hops onto the edge of the roof, the crystal in his staff flashes rapidly and in the blinding light, he is stripped of his costume and weapon and left only with a crystal necklace and shivering in the icy wind in his flannel pyjamas. Truly in disbelief, he screams into the empty street, fist shattering the brick chimney next to him, “Fuck!” He glares at his crystal - the moon crystal, “Fuck!” 

* * * * *

Its the bland monotony of Tsukishima tapping his foot that fills the mostly empty space; he’s waiting for someone. 

Its a good base - a bared concrete room that shows remnants of being a classroom maybe within the last decade. There are no signs of overgrowth and the building hasn’t been abandoned long enough to gain any superstitious value. For the most part, curious teens are a rarity seeing as the security guard in the area is a tough cookie but nothing Tsukishima and his friends can’t get past with a bit of planet pixie dust. 

Akaashi isn’t late by any means; arriving 10 minutes before the planned time but he does look worn out in the way that makes it appear as if he were running late, “Akaashi, you’re early.” It’s supposed to come out as a question but Tsukishima can never quite seem to be able to shake the sarcasm out of his voice.

Akaashi pats at the sweat lining his upper lip with his sleeve, “I was just… I needed to get somewhere fast so,” he shrugs, “here I am, I guess.” But he’s still breathing hard and Tsukishima finds it hard to believe that Akaashi of all people - calm, collected, completely unfazed and ever calculative Akaashi - would ever look so puffed out from just a bit of a run.

He gets his mind back on track, “Anything from your side?” Its only been about a week since he had last seen Black Cat but other than that, he hasn’t been out on call at all. Its not unusual and for god’s sake, Tsukishima is thankful that he’s not frolicking around in a mini-skirt and thigh highs as often (yes, he fucking admits it’s a mini-skirt but Tsukishima just doesn’t want to say it aloud… for reasons) but he feels a little restless. 

Finally getting his breath back, Akaashi shakes his head, “Not anything extra terrestrial, no but I’ve been kept busy.”

If the troubled distant look on his face is anything to go by, Tsukishima does find it in his heart to worry for Akaashi’s wellbeing but he’s just not a nosy person so he lets it go, “Kenma.” 

Sailor Mercury takes to floating through the glassless window and with his small figure, it’s not a difficult feat. Tsukishima on the other hand, is unlikely to make it through such a small opening without a scratch or two, “Jupiter is probably on his way - as fashionably late as he is.” Its a quiet mutter but the tone is evident, loud even. 

While not late, Sailor Jupiter does indeed make a fashionable entry - following Mercury too closely and hence slamming into Kenma’s back with the force of a herd of buffalos, “Heya my babies!” He announces with a vigor that makes up for the lack of energy in the other three occupants of the room - it’s irritating but nothing short of a commodity for the Sailor Scout. 

“Oikawa, good to see you showing up,” Akaashi receives him as warmly as he can - “and not late to boot.” - but sarcasm is his speciality, “I see that being around the Paladin has done you some good; he whips you into actual Sailor material.” He says so while eyeing him up and down; tattered hole-in-the-knee jeans with pin-rolled hems, battered Doc Martens and a shirt that’s gone through a few Yeezy seasons.

But unshakeable Oikawa laughs his belly laugh, “My little beauty, Iwa whips me just fine,” he decorates the innuendo with a dirty wink, “but if we’re going to talk about boyfriends, I love his pet name for you~” He drawls, sing-songs even.

And Akaashi lights up like a red firework; equal parts furious and embarrassed, “Don’t you dare Oikawa - I’d appreciate if you shut your mouth right now.” He grits.

Oh Oikawa, little Mr. Undeterred shrugs, “Something about Akaashi Jr. and being Sailor Venus,” Oikawa still has the gut in him to scoff at a steadily approaching and very hostile Akaashi, “Sailor Pe-”

“There, there. Pipe down Oikawa, we’re here for a meeting not fight club. Same rules, I get it, but we have priorities.”

Of course, Tsukishima as he watched the situation unfold before him wished deeply for some sort of angel to appear, and here he was as if some wish-granting genie had stumbled into his thoughts, “Suga, thank god.” 

Sailor Mars smiled that soft smile he had, an immediate call for peace, “Sit down Akaashi. Oikawa, take your place as well. Hi there Tsukishima, Kenma.” He nodded at each person in acknowledgement., “Well, let’s get started shall we?”

Seated in an acceptable manner, Akaashi is the first one to pipe up, “The lack of recent activity is a little concerning.” Everyone, even Oikawa, seemed to hum in agreement.

“Well, everyone just keep an eye out on things. I know everyone has their issues, but I think we’ll need to come together for this upcoming event. It wouldn’t be safe otherwise; for innocents and for us.” Suga is well aware of the general independence of each member of their generation of Sailor Scouts but the look he has doesn’t seem to give any leeway for discordance among them. They all nod. 

In the silence, Oikawa is always the one to break it, “I bet it’s going to be tentacles - I just know it.”

Kenma scoffs, “Don’t jinx us.”

Tsukishima just hopes.

* * * * *

The ridiculousness of this whole situation has yet to set in properly. Tentacles - a fucking shitload of them. A city being terrorised by a giant tentacled alien overlord hell bent on taking over Earth and without a sense of goddamn fucking personal space. In his mind, he wishes a thousand deaths upon Sailor Jupiter.

Tsukishima is immobile and completely restricted in the killer grip this huge tentacle has around him. There are a few circumstances that make this situation unbearable: 1. the amount of fucking slime this one fucking tentacle is oozes if not only shocking but vomit-inducing. Tsukishima isn’t joking when he says that the slime that covers him alone, is enough to supply the entire world a week’s worth of lube. 2. He can’t fucking move - the grip the tentacle has on him is at the point of suffocation and he’s almost sure that his right shoulder is dislocated and in that condition, he can’t seem to get a good enough grip on his staff. 3. the fucking third reason; suction cups. They are fucking everywhere on his body. The suction power of it has Tsukishima sure of the bruise-like state that his body will be in the next day if he can just get out of this alien’s grip. 

“Someone! Help!” Its Akaashi not too far off from him in the exact same situation. His yellow collar peeks from the twirl of the tentacle around him and holy shit -

“Akaashi! Get the fuck out of there!” Tsukishima is screaming but he’s starting to lose sight of his comrade behind the viscous liquid and pink limb, “Aka-”

“SAILOR PEEENISSS!!!!!” 

The sheer noise of the flash bang rings in Tsukishima’s ears and he just can’t open his eyes to see what is happening. In this situation, he takes the moment to understand a few things: he is 100% sure he has just heard someone, someone he has never heard of, scream ‘Sailor Penis’ and he doesn’t want to assume anything but it sounds an awful lot like Sailor Venus and the direction of the flash bang only seems to cement his assumption that Akaashi is indeed the subject of the nickname. But again, he reminds himself not to make the assumption and wills himself to forget the name (he isn’t afraid of Akaashi’s wrath, but he’d rather just not… be the target of it, but Oikawa’s put the idea in his head and it’s awfully hard to pretend it doesn’t sit in the back of his mind all the damn time).

With his hearing and sight temporarily out of commission, Tsukishima can distinctly feel the loosening of the grip around him. Willing himself to snap out of his daze, his eyes shoot open and he takes the opportunity. His left hand goes for his staff and, “Moon Protection!” the cast spell builds the wall around him, separating the tentacle from his body and he shoots out and upwards of the tentacle’s grip and into the night sky. The moon is at its crescent and though it appears further away than usual, it still brightly illuminates the city. However, the distraction is enough for him to lose focus and miss the way the same tentacle from before follows his path at an alarming speed. There is no way for him to react fast enough so he can only brace himself with whatever time left his protection chant has on him.

But the impact doesn’t come. Instead, it’s the strong gust of wind, and the reverberations of an explosion that send him back a few metres. He uncovers his eyes and the tip of the tentacle has been sliced off, the exposed edge now spraying its alien blood like a loose hose. He follows the path of the falling tentacle and- “Black Cat?!?!?” And before he knows it, he’s torpedoing downwards towards the familiar figure, “Moon Protection!” The pearly bubble surrounds him and captures him in a sub space now floating and defying gravity. Tsukishima meets him at the surface, “What the fuck? How did you even get this high?” He’s frustrated, of course he is. His comrades are butt deep into this slick alien thing and here he is, saving someone who had been fighting on par, if not better in each encounter that they had. 

He laughs, meets him at the edge of the bubble, “Night Wing dropped me like a bomb and I happen to show up where you were, so here I am.” He makes a showy motion as a means to present himself, “Glad he dropped me off where I wanted to be.”

He’s not blushing, so don’t assume he is, “Well, we better get going. Looks like we’ve got a world to save.”

Its only partially adrenaline that drives him to force his hand through the barrier to grab another, sending the both of them down to pummel some ass.

Conclusion? World saved. Ass pummeled.

* * * * *

After Suga’s crystal transforms him back, its the White Warrior that saves him. When Kenma hits the peak of his fatigue, its the Sun Knight that swoops in to take him to safety. Oikawa makes a terrible drama of his lovesick self and leaves the Paladin no choice but to carry him out of the battle area (Tsukishima ponders on the equality of the ‘whipped’ness in their relationship). Even Akaashi struggles to keep up with Queen Beryl, an injured arm makes it difficult for him to pick up his daggers but even then, Night Wing makes his entrance, albeit a very loud one, and gets Akaashi to a safe area to get treated.

Tsukishima is the last one left, there’s a gash along his left calf that slows him down dramatically and his mind is clouded with Queen Beryl’s dark thoughts. At his mental and physical limit, he’s simply crouching there; waiting for the finishing blow that seems to peek at the edges of his vision and advance ever so slowly. It mocks him as it edges close, a slither of black flickering at his feet.

He hears it before he sees it; the whirring of an arrow or some sort of projectile and he leans towards the left to get out of its way. It glides past his ear and punctures the shadow - a red rose complete with its thorny branch pinning the shadow to its place on the concrete.

He chuckles, “Oh, my prince.” 

An arm makes its way around his waist, supporting him as he stands up, “Anything for my princess.” Tsukishima dares not look over, but he can feel the difference along the skin of his arms.

“Is this tailored? Merino wool?” He brushes his fingers over the cuffs of his sleeve distractedly, “I don’t know how I feel about this image change-” He looks over and can’t help but let the laughter slip between his lips, “- Tuxedo Mask.” 

The way they walk off the battered streets and let the explosions blow behind them is unorthodoxly romantic, Tsukishima has no shame in admitting that, “And we’re a couple, Sailor Moon. If this story goes right, we’ll get married, have a little girl and she’ll be Sailor Mini Moon. How does that sound?” The mask does nothing to hide those amber eyes Tsukishima had become so engrossed in that time so long ago and he’s thankful - always is.

“We can talk about it later, for now; get me out of here, love.” He allows him to scoop him up from underneath is knees as he clings to his neck, face tucked into the lapel of his jacket.

“Roger that, love.”

And its Tuxedo Mask that takes him away into the sky, a super moon not present but the mood just right for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> round of applause for finishing this :')


End file.
